The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 244: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Che : WO weeks after Jimmy Morton married the most beautiful woman in the world he was sent away—by his employers, not by his newly acquired wife. But this fact did not make the separation any easier for Jimmy, who was star salesman for the American Pocket Lighter Com- pany of Newark, New Jersey. To be sent away three days after completing one’s honeymoon is in it- self enough to cast the average man’s soul into gloom. But, in addition to having to leave his bride of two weeks, Jimmy found himself face to face with other trials. To begin with, Jimmy was six feet tall and built like a Greek god. This implies that he was handsome, and his bachelor cronies always said that, after ten minutes’ acquaintance, Jimmy could always hold the hand of the nicest girl present. Also, given a conservatory or a moonlit veranda, Jimmy was reputed to be able to kiss said young lady after ten additional minutes had elapsed. But now Jimmy was married, and all the way down on the fruit steamer from New York to Ozora he had sat lonely and disconsolate upon the deck, a ee P. Rockey 230 etter He Didnt Wan thinking of the cozy little cottage he had just furnished in East Orange. On board, also, was a young woman, who, Jimmy admitted to himself, was the second best looking woman he had ever seen. She was disposed to be friendly; but for the first time in his life Jimmy be- lied his reputation, and, feeling pros- perous with a generous wad of ex- pense money in his pocket, he resorted to wireless. But, at best, married court- ing at long distance is unsatisfactory. At last, however, he found himself installed in the Grand Hotel d’Ingla- terre, at Ozora, to remain there until he had accomplished his mission of placing American-made pocket-lighters within the reach of every citizen of the indolent little South American republic. Now, if you have never sat upon a bench on the Plaza at Ozora, in the calm of a soft, dreamy night—if you have never listened to the entrancing strains of the linen-clad band—if you have never observed daintily slippered | and shimmery mantillaed sefioritas sweeping languorously past in the dim light of the street lanterns—then you have no conception of Jimmy’s trials oO CO MICLOOKS C©